I Think I've Lost My Headache
by nottonyharrison
Summary: Purebloods have the worst luck. Part 10 in the 'Monsters in the Parasol' series.


**A/N:** Sorry for punching out such a quickie. I just needed something to get me back into the flow after having a month or so off writing (did I mention my apartment essentially becomes a boarding house over the holidays?). Please vote in my poll! You can find it on my profile page, I'm not using the results for this part due to the lack of votes, but once I've got a clearer picture of what you as readers would like I'll be writing a story inspired by your requests!

**NEXT IN THE MONSTERSVERSE...**

**I Think I've Lost My Headache **

...

Hermione had always disliked children. As an adult, she was beginning to relate to the grim persona Madame Pince had propagated during her Hogwarts days. Although she was rarely in the company of _real_ children - apart from the odd Weasley Sunday lunch - she definitely felt the frustration on a daily basis.

Draco Malfoy was officially a man-child. A juvenile, whiny, petulant man-child. Who currently had man-child-flu, which is _clearly_ much worse than normal flu, or even normal man-flu.

"It was that hideous sniveling woman at that tearooms you took me to, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him, instead peering through a large single lens Leupold and jotting down their target's movements on a sheet of magical parchment.

"I swear, she was walking 'round infecting everyone at that place. Probably spat in the coffee out of spite too." He blew his nose loudly and cast a cleaning spell on his handkerchief.

"Target's still just standing there...what do you think he's up to?" She tapped the pen against her chin and glanced back down at her notes.

"I don't care. I just want to go to sleep." Draco turned around agonizingly slowly and slid down the wall, eventually sitting on the floor with his knees tucked under his chin.

"Seriously, Malfoy, Man up. Merlin knows how you ever managed to get past the mental strength test at academy." She dangled the potion bottle he had left on the windowsill in front of his nose and he snatched it from her fingers.

"I don't know what your test was like, but I was left in a silent dark cell for four days. There was definitely no surviving deathly illnesses involved."

"You've got a cold for Merlin's sake. Take the potion and drink your coffee." She handed him a cardboard cup that the potion had been sitting next to and he eyed it dubiously.

"I don't trust you," he sniffed again and wiped his nose.

"Well you refuse to take the Muggle medicine I have in my backpack so you're going to have to deal with the potion." She went back to her surveillance. Draco gulped down half of the bottle and made a face, following it with the bitter black coffee. His grimace remained.

"How can you drink this stuff? It's vile."

"You'll understand in about forty-five minutes."

...

"I don't get why you're still hanging around Black, I mean isn't your detail over already?"

"I already told you, Malfoy. He's Harry's godfather. We're bound to hang out together occasionally." She was stuffing the equipment back into the small backpack they had brought with them, occasionally stopping to answer his annoying questions, but more often than not answering on autopilot.

"Liar. I saw you two out for lunch the other day." Draco was still leaning against the wall underneath the window but was looking much perkier. His hair was sticking up all over the place from where he had been trying in vain to rub away his headache earlier, but other than that he looked almost back to normal. Unfortunately for her, Hermione hadn't thought of the consequences of a man who had spent his entire life drinking tea.

She sighed and ignored his constant chatter, instead concentrating on checking all of her surveillance gear was packed away and any traces of them being in the room were magically erased. Casting a quick eye over the office, she noticed Malfoy's dirty handkerchief cast aside on the floor next to him.

"Be a doll and clean that whole area of carpet will you?" She stood over the revolting piece of fabric and pointed, moving her finger around in a circle.

"What about our conversation?" He looked affronted.

"What, you prattling on and me saying _hmmm_ every now and then? Some conversation. How _are_ you enjoying your first caffeine experience?"

"I can't stop talking."

"Yeah, that tends to happen. You'll come crashing down in about two hours. Best get you back to London before you become a dead weight." She crouched down and tucked her arm under his, tugging him to his feet.

"I don't need your help, Granger. I'm perfectly fine."

"Okay." She let go and he fell back down again. He frowned and attempted to push himself back to his feet. Failing miserably he flopped back against the wall.

"Help?"

Hermione smiled a little and crouched back down again, this time picking him up in a firemans hold.

"This never gets back to Potter. I'll never be able to show my face at the Leaky ever again." His voice was muffled against the thick puffer vest she was wearing.

"Fine, but you are my personal bitch for a week once you're back to normal."

"Two days."

"Five."

"Deal."

"Merlin, you're simple sometimes. I think that was the worst negotiation in ministry history."

"Oh bite me."

...

"Meningitis?" There was a moment of stunned silence before she began giggling. "Wizards don't get meningitis!"

"Well, apparently we do. Something to do with my unstable pureblood genome being susceptible to Muggle diseases." He took a gulp of the potion the mediwitch had prescribed and grimaced.

"Might I add that having an unstable genome tastes _disgusting_."


End file.
